


if you want a thing done well, do it yourself

by queensusan



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9103183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensusan/pseuds/queensusan
Summary: Arya wants to lose her virginity, so she takes matters into her own hands.  Sandor is just a willing bystander.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of smut that I wrote because I can't seem to get enough of Arya and Sandor and I thought someone else might enjoy it too. Set at some point after she returns from Braavos, but vague on setting beyond that. I'm going to say Arya's over 18 here because it's a lot more fun for me that way.

“And you'll remember to keep your hands to yourself?” Arya asked Sandor sternly. 

“This was _your_ idea, if you recall,” he pointed out in an aggrieved tone of voice, not wanting her to forget that she'd been the one who'd pressured him into this instead of the other way around. When she just gave him a hard look he lifted a shoulder. “Yes, yes, I won't touch you until you say I may- _if_ you're so gracious. My lady.” 

Arya smacked his arm, not wanting to show her amusement at his sarcastic tone. “I'm not a lady,” she said, but got distracted by the bulk of his arm under her hand. She ran a hand up and squeezed his bicep. “Seven hells,” she muttered in exasperation. She'd always had a weakness for strong men and Sandor, no matter his scars, was the pinnacle of all she found sensual. She stroked his muscular arms and then moved to his bare chest. She'd made him remove his tunic before she'd instructed him to lay on the bed and now she ran her fingers over him. He watched her with wary half lidded eyes but submitted to her touch without complaint.

“Mmph,” Arya sighed and squeezed the meat of his pectoral muscles as a man might cup a woman's tits. She thumbed his nipples until they were peaked, the way she liked to touch herself, and Sandor shifted under her, clearly affected by her groping. His mouth parted on a sigh, but he kept his peace.

Next she moved her hands to his face. He jerked his head away when she touched the burned side and glared at her. “Not there,” he snapped, so she grasped his jaw on the good side and turned him to face her. Sensing her intentions, he squeezed his eyes shut and let her kiss him until she decided it wasn't much good. His breath was none too sweet and his mouth was too lax. She'd _seen_ men and women kiss and she didn't think he was trying hard enough.

She shoved his shoulder. “Kiss me,” she ordered and he sighed heavily and put more effort into it. She felt his arm come up between them, probably to touch her shoulder or cup the back of her head, before he remembered himself and put it back down. It wasn't bad, but she still felt like she was just licking his teeth. She drew back and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

“You aren't a very good kisser,” she groused and his brow lowered forbiddingly.

“How many women do you think have wanted to kiss me?” he snarled, and she immediately regretted her thoughtless words.

“Well _I_ do,” she said firmly, making her words confident to cover her momentary confusion. “We'll get better.”

She moved down to his lap and boldly put her hand on the bulge of his cock beneath his trousers. Sandor gasped and jolted under her, his hips twitching up into her touch before he got control of himself and settled back against the mattress. She rubbed his shaft until it was obvious even through the fabric that he'd grown larger- and he'd seemed quite large to Arya to begin with. She shot a shy look up at him before bringing up her other hand and beginning to fumble at the fastenings of Sandor's trousers. 

Her hands were trembling with anticipation and she found the task frustratingly difficult, as though she'd never untied a knot in her life. Sandor made a huffing noise that might have been amusement. Arya felt too self conscious to look at his face, but the muscles in his stomach were tight with tension and his hands were clenched at his side. She hoped it was because he had to restrain himself from touching her and not because he wished to push her off him.

Finally she got the knots undone and all she had to do was push aside the fabric of his trousers and pull down his small clothes, exposing his cock. His cock was engorged with blood and huge- much larger than she'd ever seen it, for though there had never been any modesty between them, she'd only ever seen him flaccid. 

Arya realized that she wasn't breathing and she glanced up quickly at Sandor to find him watching her with an expression that she didn't think she'd seen on him before- a hungry, lustful one. She breathed in sharply and now she was trembling everywhere, not just her hands. And it wasn't with fear, either.

Instead of touching him immediately she pulled his trousers down further. “Up,” she said, and he lifted his hips so that she could slide the fabric over his muscular legs and off his bare feet. She had to take a moment to admire his legs, for though they bore many scars and a thick covering of hair, they were shapely and thick with muscles. With one hand she caressed his thigh and with the other she absently pressed a hand between her legs, to ease the frantic want there.

“You're gorgeous,” she said with complete sincerity and rubbed the crease of her sex through her clothing, the sensation not enough to satisfy her. 

“Don't lie to me. I'm not some woman you have to sweet talk,” Sandor growled but she just squeezed his thigh, hard, her nails digging in.

“I'm not lying. You're gorgeous to me, and _my_ opinion is the only one that matters,” she said fiercely, glaring at him until he reluctantly relaxed again, obviously not so sure anymore that she'd been teasing him.

To distract him from his own insecurities, she stepped back from the bed to give herself room to shed her clothing. She pushed aside her tunic and then stepped out of her pantaloons, then finally peeked up at Sandor, an arm up to cover her breasts. Shyness was not in her nature, but for all her boldness, she'd never intentionally exposed her body for the purpose of arousing anyone and she wasn't as brave as she pretended to be.

“Even wolf girls grow up,” Sandor grunted, his dark eyes caressing her naked body.

Arya, pleased by the obvious desire in his voice, slowly lowered her arms so that they were held by her sides. Sandor's cock gave a twitch of interest at the sight of her, but he held to his word and kept his arms down. With a deep breath, Arya lifted her hands and put them on either side of Sandor's groin, her small fingers bracketing his large cock. 

She wasn't a complete innocent- when she'd been blinded and vulnerable in Braavos there had been a boy who'd forced himself on her. She'd fought enough to keep him from raping her, but he'd held her down and forced her to hold his cock until he'd come on her, leaving her with a sticky hand and an empty cup. And she'd seen men and women fuck- sometimes consensually and sometimes by force. She couldn't count the number of times she'd seen men and boys take their own cocks in hand and it had never particularly excited her before. But touching Sandor was different; she trusted him, and she found that made all the difference.

The flesh of Sandor's cock was hot and firm in her hand and a bead of moisture glistened at the tip. She gave it a few experimental strokes, alternating between holding him loosely and grasping him tightly. She tried to wrap her fingers around the shaft fully and couldn't quite reach but she must have held him too hard, for he hissed and angled away from her.

“You aren't trying to strangle it,” he barked, but not angrily. There was a hint of humor behind his voice, as though he found her curiosity charming.

“Sorry,” she said and touched him more gently, not stroking as much as exploring. She traced the veins that ran up the shaft and she cupped his testicles and threaded her fingers through the thick hair at the base. He let her touch him below, spreading his legs a little to allow her to stroke the space between his testicles and his anus, flinching only a little when her fingertip brushed against his hole. He lay passively, mostly quiet save a soft moan or two as she occasionally managed to do something that was pleasing to him.

Arya discovered, after she'd been fondling him for several minutes, that her legs were almost weak with desire and her cunt was so wet that her thighs were slick with it. She had been bumping her hips against the side of the bed repeatedly without realizing it and she was almost frantic to be touched. She crawled onto the bed and straddled Sandor's lap, unable to wait any longer. 

“Sandor,” she moaned, and then lowered her pelvis while pressing up his cock so that the head of his cock rubbed against her swollen clit. They both gasped at the contact and Arya saw Sandor's hands raise to touch her before he recalled himself and let them drop back to his sides. It was a heady feeling, to control so great a man, and she felt safe and powerful. She tossed her head and smiled with uninhibited glee.

Arya used her hand to press Sandor's cock against her and she rubbed her wet cunt along his length, grinding herself against the firm ridge of the head. It was so good she couldn't help the humiliating noises that escaped her lips. It wasn't noble or romantic or anything else ladies were supposed to feel. It was just _good._ It made her want to howl at the moon like the wolf Sandor always called her.

She was wild with it, now. She used both hands to hold his cock against her- probably too hard, though he wasn't complaining- and she rutted against him, every slick slide of his flesh over her clit drawing her closer to her peak.

“Fucking hells, girl,” Sandor gasped below her, his voice stunned and gravelly with lust, but she couldn't stop, even to preserve her dignity.

“Oh, Sandor, yes, yes,” she yelped, twisting against his cock in the desperate attempt for the perfect angle, that last little bit of friction she needed. The crown of his cock flicked against the head of her clit _just_ right and she was off, riding his cock as her loins exploded with pleasure. When she came to herself she found Sandor's hands gripping her hips with enough force to draw bruises and a intense look on his face. Realizing he was breaking his vow not to touch her without permission, he grimaced and began to draw his hands back, but she put her palms on top of his hands and held him there.

“It's okay,” she panted. “You can touch me there.” She kept her hands on top of his while she regained her breath, liking the way his large, warm palms felt against her skin. Below her, Sandor's cock was purple with arousal now and the skin was shiny and tight. “Does it hurt?” she asked breathlessly, for it looked almost painfully engorged to her.

Sandor snorted. “No, girl, it doesn't hurt,” he said, his voice rich with amusement, and Arya smiled at him tentatively, though she blushed when he glanced down between her spread legs. Her sex was red and plump with blood and the head of her clit was peeking out from its hood like a tiny cock. “Does that hurt?” he asked her ironically and she attempted a scowl.

“No,” she snapped, embarrassed, but she wasn't really upset. She was far too aroused and pleased to be angry with Sandor.

“It will hurt, if you leave it like that,” Sandor said, nodding at his straining prick, and Arya squirmed a little, already ready to go again.

She grasped his cock in her hand, but with determination instead of curiosity, this time. She angled it up and hovered above it, her intentions clear.

“Wait,” Sandor said, his hands on her hips gripping. “You don't have to, girl,” he said huskily. She thought his voice was a little reluctant, but she admired his restraint. “You can just play, like this, and still be a virgin.”

She thought he had a strange idea of virginity, if he thought she could touch him as she was and remain pure. She hadn't been pure since she'd left Winterfell. 

“Who am I saving it for? My Lord husband?” she scoffed. She leaned forward on one hand and used the other to place his head at her entrance. “I was saving it for you,” she murmured, and then pressed back enough so he was only just piercing her, the plump head cradled inside her. Sandor gasped and went rigid beneath her, but he did not force her or attempt to thrust deeper. It wasn't enough to hurt her yet, but when she pressed back harder they both hissed, he with pleasure and she with discomfort. 

He was very large- much larger than her fingers or the little wooden dildo she'd experimented with in Braavos. Her cunt was lax with pleasure, though, and it didn't hurt enough for her to stop. She eased back further, ever so slowly spearing herself on his length. It must have been torturous for him, but she went so gradually that by the time he was buried deep inside her she was left merely with the ache of flesh unused to stretching to accommodate so large an intrusion but no pain.

Arya looked up from between her legs and grinned at Sandor, almost proud of herself for taking him so well. His face was tight but he pantomimed a smile back at her. “Put your hands on the bed,” she said, as much as to see if he would do it as anything, and was delighted when he did. Her grin broadened and she reached down and picked up one of his huge hands. Her own little ones seemed so weak compared to his but he kept his hand limp, submissive to her will.

“If you touch me I'll move,” she said coyly, and brought his hand between her legs.

“Arya,” Sandor growled, but she didn't take his protests very seriously. With a furrowed brow Sandor stroked his fingers through her wet sex, but it became immediately clear that Sandor's experience with pleasing women was limited. Probably the whores he'd fucked didn't want him touching them any more than was necessary. 

“Here,” Arya said, balancing on her knees so that she could grasp his hand in hers and guide his fingers. “Right there- yes, in little circles. Not too hard, just like- Oh-” He caught on quickly, copying the rhythm she showed him and working with her movements when she began to slowly roll herself onto his cock, shallow little thrusts that burned but didn't hurt. In fact, between Sandor's touch and the feel of him sliding in and out of her wetness she found herself close to coming again. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she sped up, her intense desire making him plunge into her with little resistance. She began to go so fast that Sandor's fingers were dislodged, so she impatiently pushed him away and replaced him with her own fingers, rubbing just the right way in just the right place, and-

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” Arya cried inelegantly and arched back on his cock, grinding mindlessly on his girth and frigging herself frantically with her fingers until she'd wrung ever drop of pleasure from her orgasm.

When she came back to herself she found Sandor's hands on her hips again, his grasp tight, as though it was only by a will of iron that he kept himself from slamming her back on his cock. They were both panting and the expression on Sandor's face was verging on painful now, no matter what he'd told her. She lowered herself on to him and tucked her cheek against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding wildly beneath her and she snuggled in to him, feeling safe and happy. He was still hard inside her and it was delightful. 

“You feel really good,” she murmured, and Sandor's breath huffed against the side of her face.

“Arya, please." His hands drifted from her waist to her bottom. He cupped her arse in his palms and used his leverage to move her gently on his cock. She hadn't given him permission to do it, precisely, but she liked it too much to complain.

“Keep doing that,” she whispered and he did, moving her body on his cock in thrusts that must have been too gentle to truly satisfy. It didn't satisfy her, either. She got her knees under her so she wasn't plastered to his front and he could move more easily and when she didn't protest his gradually deepening thrusts he sped up. Soon he had his heels braced on the mattress and he was fucking her with abandon, his great cock screwing into her hard enough that she knew she wouldn't be able to sit still for days. She clung to his chest and choked on her breath and took it, the sounds of Sandor's harsh grunts and cries like music to her ears, and when he finally snapped her hips down to meet him the final time she cried out with him.

Sandor was tense for several long moments, his breathing ragged and his prick pulsing inside her, and then he fell back limply. He continued to pump his hips lazily but she could tell by the contented smile on his face that he was finished. 

But she wasn't. His last burst of energetic thrusting had only set a fire in her that hadn't been quenched.

“Sandor,” she said reproachfully when he finally stilled and his eyes drifted close, a satisfied look on his face. She slowly backed off of him, his softening cock sliding from her with an unpleasant wet noise. She fell on the mattress beside him and immediately put a hand to her cunt. It was sloppy with his seed and the feeling of running her fingers through it was incredible. She felt like she was only just getting started. “Don't go to sleep yet! I want you to touch me now.”

Sandor's eyes shot open. “You want me to touch you _now?_ ” His eyes drifted down to her parted legs where her hand worked steadily. “How many times can you come?” he asked incredulously and Arya giggled. She was getting the impression that Sandor didn't really have much more experience with women than she had with men- at least not the ones who weren't in it for money. But that was fine. She could teach him how to please her.

“Lots of times,” she said happily and grabbed his hand to draw it to her cunt. “Now put your thumb here, like this- Oh yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this please let me know! 
> 
> And if you're new to this pairing and want more, check out my collected works. I've written a few more Sandor/Arya fics.


End file.
